Sweet Child O' Mine
by njcarter89
Summary: While working on a case involving a human trafficker, Peter receives an unexpected surprise on his doorstep. The adventures of every one's favourite con, child sized. Please R&R :
1. Prologue

Details: I have always wanted to do a piece such as this, so here it is! And this is my first story in the White Collar department, so go easy.

Summary: While working on a case involving a child trafficker, Peter gets an unexpected surprise on his door step. The adventures of our favourite little con as a child! :)

Disclaimer: It is not mine, and I do not own USA Network, for if I did, In Plain Sight's season would be longer.

Question (I took this from amourdemavie39, so thank you!) for readers: Who saw the finale of that show last night, if you watch it. And also, how do you think that this finale is going to play out? Discuss in the review box!

This is the PROLOGUE! If you like it, please review and tell me if I should continue.

{}WHITE COLLAR{}

Peter walked heavily down his wooden staircase, footsteps pounding against the hard wood. He readjusted his plain grey t-shirt, so it was situated properly over his broad chest, and ran a hand through his unruly morning hair. He had rolled out of bed only moments before, and his vision hadn't quite adjusted to the light barreling in through the window panes. He shivered against the cool morning air, escaping from beneath the door frame, and seeping into the Burke household. He yawned, swiping the drool from his chin, and rubbed his eyes like a small child waking up from it's afternoon nap. His movements were lethargic for he hadn't slept well the previous night. He was too wired from the case he and his team were working on; a child trafficker who also seemed to be skilled in forging passports and documents for the kids he sold. That was how it had become a Peter Burke and Co. case. He could not stop thinking about finding the man, and the satisfying feeling that he would receive after slapping the handcuffs around the flesh of his wrists. He had powered through three FBI "coffee straight from hell" as Neal had dubbed it, fueled all-nighters before Elle had finally convinced him to come home and get some rest, which unfortunately he did not. His team was tired and so was he.

_I am going to nab that son of a bitch if it is the last thing I do_, he thought to himself as he continued down the stairs, feet slapping against the floor. This case had set his entire team on edge, none of them particularly enjoyed chasing a man who sold kids for fun, especially Neal. For some strange reason, the con had seemed withdrawn during the entire mission; he hadn't even complained when he spent the majority of the time in the crappy van. It had worried Peter, for the entire state of New York knew how much Neal hated the van.

He shook his head to himself, quietly pondering if it was something he should pursue, or just let his friend work it out on his own. Peter had decided to wait until after breakfast, and perhaps get Elle's opinion about what he should do. He paused on the end of the banister, stretching his aching back out. He groaned at the popping noise his creaky old bones made as he moved them, and also at the fact that he was now at the age where he had been forced to call them old. He sighed, scratched at the stubble forming at the base of his jaw, and walked slowly into the living room.

He followed his nose towards the kitchen. The air was filled with the thick heavenly smell of coffee, wafting in from the kitchen. It was Sunday, which meant that Elle made a delicious breakfast of eggs, bacon, and a steaming cup of pitch black coffee, all waiting for him beyond the swinging white frame door. Another perk about Sunday, was that it was crossword day. He enjoyed the intellectual challenged they posed for him, as well as the fact that they always relaxed Peter and forced him to focus.

He wandered past his bookshelf, but paused, an unknown sound sent his FBI senses tingling. It sounded like someone singing, right outside his front door. Peter picked up a book from his shelf, knowing that it contained a back up Glock in case of emergencies. He eased it from between the pages, and crept towards the door. He raised the gun, counted to three mentally, and turned the door knob.

"Freeze, FBI!" He shouted, gun drawn, as he rushed out his oak door.

A small child sat on his front porch, happily singing "Row Row Row your boat" and swinging his feet too and from the step. He paused when Peter had shouted at him. Tiny blue orbs peeked out from behind a mop of messy brown curls, full of curiosity and slight irritation that someone had interrupted his singing. He was dressed in a light grey suit that hung loosely around his thin, tiny frame. His shirt was untucked and brown stains floated freely upon it, pants rumpled, yet his shoes weren't scuffed, which indicated that the child hadn't walked here, which Peter doubted that he was even old enough too. Around his tiny neck haphazardly hung an ocean blue tie, that closely resembled his sky blue irises.

"Pe-er?" he asked cautiously. He seemed a little frightened. Then a happy grin spread across his lips, and his cheeks gained a little red colour to them. The child __recognized__ him. He reached out his fragile little arms towards Peter, expecting to be picked up.

It dawned on him who this child was. "Neal? What happened to you?" He asked quietly, as he lowered his weapon.

{}WHITE COLLAR{}

Neal is hot,

You know the spot,

To leave me a review,

If you do, I'll love you!

Get pumped ladies and gentleman, the Summer Finale occurs tomorrow! :))))))))))))


	2. Chapter One: Charming Little One

Details: Thank you so much for all the support! I love you all! :))))

Summary: While working on a case involving a child trafficker, Peter gets an unexpected surprise on his door step. The adventures of our favourite little con as a child! :)

Disclaimer: Sorry folks, I do not own White Collar. So I don't own Neal. Which makes me sad.

{}WHITE COLLAR{}

Peter stood there, rooted to the earth, shaking his head in disbelief. His eyes saw the little body sitting on his porch, but his brain had not yet registered how the hell this was possible. He quietly asked himself if he had gone insane. He rubbed his eyes and blinked a few times, he even pinched himself to make sure that he wasn't dreaming.

"Neal?" He repeated, idiotically. His mouth remained opened after he had spoken.

The boy made a motion for Peter to close his mouth. "Momma says it's not nice."He added. When Peter did so, he continued.

The teenie child pointed an ittie-bittie finger to his white dress shirt, where his chest would be."I, Ne-el Caf-ery. "

He reached out and touched Peter's pajama clad leg. He patted it twice before stating, "You Pe-er. You gave me, my shiny li-te. " His tiny hand moved from Peter's leg and grasped the cuff of his pat leg, slowly pulling it up, in a surprisingly graceful fashion for a toddler. He turned his foot from left to right, to ensure that Peter would receive the full view of the tracking anklet.

"See?" He asked dragging out the final letter of the word. "I was not a good boy, so you gave me my shiny li-te. I like it, it helps me not be sca-red of bad guys at bed-time." He carefully rolled his pants back down.

Peter chuckled to himself. The child's speech was adorable.

Peter knelt and sat down next to the child on the stone step. He observed the child, who in turn watched him, as he prepared to ask Neal a question. "How'd you get here, buddy?" He asked softly.

Neal's eyes roamed the streets a head of them. He seemed to be thinking long and hard about this question, for his face contorted as if he was in pain. His tiny red tongue stuck out of his mouth as he pondered the question.

"I… I donno!" He said finally, his blue eyes filing with tears. He twisted his tie dejectedly. "Is all dark, and sca-ry. I don like it! " He reached out and grabbed Peter's leg, which caused Peter to wobble unsteadily. His little eyes were firmly shut behind their thick lashes in terror.

Peter sighed, worried that he had made him cry, so he quickly tried to comfort him. "It's okay, little guy." He patted the little boy's shoulder.

Neal reached out his arms again towards Peter in that wordless request to be held. This time, Peter complied. He scooped his mini-sized con into his strong arms, and swung open the heavy oak door.

"Come on, Let's see if Elle made us some breakfast." He said, stepping into his house. He gave Neal his index finger to hold onto while he made his way to the kitchen. Tiny fingers met a larger, rougher one in a silent bond.

His eyes lit up like a child in a candy shop. "Elle?" He repeated. "Does Elle have pan-cakes?" He asked, his face breaking into one of his signature Charming Caffrey Smiles.

{}WHITE COLLAR{}

"Hon? Is that you? I have been calling you for the past twenty minutes." She said, her back turned to the pair. Instead, she was focused on the bacon, sizzling in the grease filled black pan.

"Yeah, sorry, it's me." He motioned for Neal to be quiet by putting a finger to his lips. Neal quickly imitated the motion, and slapped a hand over his tiny mouth, in compliance. "Hon, is it alright that I brought a plus one to breakfast?" He asked, barely containing the laugh that threatened to blow his cover.

Elle finally turned, her face full of confusion. Once her eyes took in Peter holding a baby in his arms, she understood. He could see his wife's heart melting inside her chest. Her face shone with happiness, and Peter knew at once his wife had fallen victim to the tiny boy adorable persona, just as he had.

"Oh, gosh! " She gasped, her blue eyes twinkling. "Who's this little cutie?" She asked, briskly walking past the counter to meet her husband. The bacon popped in protest behind her, seeing as though it had been abandoned for something far more interesting.

Neal, whom had been sitting quietly with a hand over his mouth, raised a hand.

"Yes?" Peter asked.

He took his hand off his mouth. "Can I speak now?" He questioned before slapping a hand back over his mouth, as if there was something in there that he did not want released.

"Yes, you may speak." He said, smiling. He patted the little boy's back again.

Neal turned, his face lit up with happiness again. He outstretched his arms towards Elizabeth. "Hi, Elle!" He said, practically shrieking. Neal all but jumped out of Peter's arms and bounced into hers.

She steadied the squirming child in her arms, before looking him over. Her husband laughed.

"Neal?" She asked, with the same disbelief in her voice that Peter's had.

His head bobbled in confirmation. "Yes, I Ne-el!" He wrapped his arms around Elle's neck and buried his face inside Elle's brown hair.

Elle looked at her husband with a smile on her face. She gently stroked the con's messy hair and giggled. "Hi, honey! Do you want breakfast?"

Neal pulled away to look at Elle, his face serious. "Do you have pan-cakes?"

She looked back at him. She put a finger the the side of her lips and said, "Well that depends. Is their a certain little boy that want's to help me?" She asked, grin spreading wider across her face.

Neal looked all around him. Then the answer hit him, his mouth forming an 'o' in realization. He raised his hand, flailing all around in Elle's embrace. "I do! I do!" He nearly shouted.

"Well alright then. Let's go little monkey!" She said, laughingly. She turned to smile at her husband before carrying the little boy over to the fridge to prepare his beloved pancakes.

{}WHITE COLLAR{}

Alright so there is the premier chapter. In the next one you can definitely expect a chaos in the Burke kitchen and a bathtub fiasco. :) More to come soon, and it will come faster if you review! :)

Cheers, Neille! :)


	3. Chapter Two: Messy Little One

Details: Wow! You guys are amazing at reviewing! :) Please, don't let me stop you from continuing!

Summary: While working on a case involving a child trafficker, Peter gets an unexpected surprise on his door step. The adventures of our favourite little con as a child! :)

Disclaimer: You know the drill.

Warning: This is so sweet that you may want to consult your dentist. I did, because my jaw was on the floor from last night's finale! HOLY SH*T!

Discuss in the review box!

{}WHITE COLLAR{}

Peter watched with a grin plastered on his face as Neal and his wife dumped practically an entire carton of chocolate chips into the freshly made batter of pancakes. Neal's hands grasped the end of the container, Elle's arms wrapped around him. Sounds of laughter and the glorious smell of pancakes filled the air.

It had been a messy affair. Neal's suit jacket, blue tie, and tiny sized loafers had been removed for preservation. What was left on his body had turned into a baking crime scene. Flour dusted the baby's head making him look as though his hair was now salt and peppered with white streaks running haphazardly. Bits of yellow pancake batter clung to his (now not so )white dress shirt. Neal continuously found them, each time looking surprised at his sudden discovery, and popped them into his tiny mouth, earning a giggle from both Elle and Peter. Not even his grey socks had been spared; an egg shell had been smushed into the fabric. Chocolate was smeared across his chin, from when he stole chocolate chips when he thought the adults were not looking. He hadn't fully developed his somewhat flawless stealing techniques that had given him his shiny light yet.

Once the batter was finally made, Neal was a wreck. For that matter, so was the kitchen.

"I believe a bath is in order." Cried Elle, hefting the child back into her loving embrace. She walked towards her husband.

"Can you handle this, I have got to make sure the pancakes cook correctly." She said as she transferred Neal over to Peter. She had chocolate and flour smeared on her blue pajama shirt. She didn't seem to notice or care. She leaned down towards Neal. "Pancakes will be done as soon as you get out, honey." She kissed him on his nose, and the little boy giggled, blushing slightly.

Peter leaned forward to kiss Elle, pulling her into a sloppy hug, and slapping a big kiss on her lips. Neal was in the middle, giggling again. He tried to wrap his little arms around both of them. They all laughed.

"Alright buddy, no more delaying, it's bath time!" Peter said heading for the stairs. He positioned Neal so that he would be sitting atop his shoulders; something his father used to do with Peter when he was a child. Neal laughed happily, his hands wrapping around Peter's forehead.

"Will there be bubbles?" He asked, his voice becoming questioning.

Peter gave a short laugh. "Sure, I'll see what we got."

{}WHITE COLLAR{}

He gave the boy some privacy to slip into the overflowing bubbly tub. Peter had found a tube of Elle's lavender smelling bubble bath in the medicine cabinet, and dumped a good portion into the tub. He made sure the water was an appropriate temperature for the small child, and watched as the bubbles became mountainous, towering over the porcelain tub. It would be a huge disaster zone by the time they were finished, but Neal would be thrilled, and smell lovely too.

Peter smiled to himself. He had always wanted a son.

A muffled _Pe-er_ came from inside the bathroom. It sounded as though someone was struggling inside. Peter's heart was pounding as he strode over to the bathroom, his mind reeling from the possibilities of what could have happened in the few moments he wasn't with his…the child.

He turned the brass door knob and stepped inside. "Neal? What's wrong, buddy?"

He bit back a laugh. Before him stood Neal, with his arms in the air, and shirt covering his face.

"Buddy what happened?" He said, kneeling before the kid.

"I too small, It not work." Came the silenced reply. Neal wobbled, and almost fell into the nearby toilet. Peter caught him, and sat the kid onto his lap.

Peter smiled as he began to unbutton the dress shirt. Before long Neal was buried beneath a mountain of bubbles, and Peter had a soapy beard. He began making funny faces, and Neal had tears streaming down his face from laughing.

"Pe-er! Stop!" Neal cried breathlessly, holding the sides of his heaving stomach. A toothy grin emerged.

The bubbles dripped down from his chin, and landed on his pajama bottoms with a plop.

"Alright, come here, let me shampoo you." Peter gestured for him to move closer.

With one hand he covered Neal's ocean blue eyes to prevent the soap from getting in them, and with the other he opened a silvery bottle of shampoo. He squeezed a dollop into his hands, and began lathering it into the boys curly hair.

"Pe-er?" Neal whispered, his voice sounded as though he was about to cry.

"Yes?" He replied.

"Do I make you sad?" He said, a tear wetting Peter's hand.

"No, buddy. Why would you ask me that?" He asked.

"Cause the ot-her day, you told me to leave, and stop be-in annoy-ing. You look-ed sad, Pe-er. I don like you be-in sad!" Neal cried, more tears spilling from his eyes.

Peter pulled a soapy, wet Neal to his t-shirt, and let him cry a bit. "I'm sorry, I was just frustrated that day with the case. It wasn't your fault, it was mine. I am sorry." He said, shushing Neal in a comforting manner.

Neal shuddered one last time against Peter.

"Now let's get that soap out of your hair and go eat." Peter said, turning on the faucet.

{}WHITE COLLAR{}

OKAY that is fini! Hope you enjoyed! Please R&R!

I CANNOT WAIT FOR WINTER !


	4. Chapter Three: Crime Solving Little One

Details: Thank you guys so much for all the reviewing/alerting! Please keep it up!

Summary: Summary: While working on a case involving a child trafficker, Peter gets an unexpected surprise on his door step. The adventures of our favourite little con as a child! :)

Disclaimer: Not mine.

{}WHITE COLLAR{}

A tiny mop of messy wet brown curls peeped out from one of the sides of the white wooden table. Neal had managed to escape both Burke's arms, and climb into the white wicker chair. Unfortunately for the boy, he was too small to reach the table top.

Peter noticed this and laughed. "Come here buddy, you can sit on me." He gestured to himself.

The hair disappeared, followed by the sound of little sock clad footsteps dashing towards him. Soon Peter was hit by a tiny mass of little boy, which he scooped up, and placed on his lap.

"Alright, bud! Do you want syrup on your pancakes?" He asked, reaching for the bottle shaped like a woman.

Neal nodded. Peter deposited a generous helping on the oddly shaped, chocolate chip filled pancakes. He sliced them into child sized portions, and stabbed a piece with his fork, sliding it gently into Neal's open mouth. The little boy chewed and swallowed. He clapped his hands happily, and waited for more.

Elle had disappeared to the store to find Neal some more clothing and other baby supplies such as diapers. She was due back any minute, and he was hoping that she would be able to find him a non-breakfast contaminated suit.

Once the pancakes were eaten, and the dishes cleared and washed, Peter received a call from his "Probie" Diana. He flicked open his phone and pressed send.

"Boss, we got a break through on the case. Jones found a hit on one of Josef Atlin's aliases. Apparently he made a substantial purchase a few hours ago, using the name Fray La Fence.*"

Peter drained the last dregs of coffee from his mug, and shifted Neal to his other hip. "We will be there in a bit."

"Wait. Is Neal with you?" Diana questioned.

Peter smiled to himself. "Yeah, he got himself into a bit of trouble." He gave a laugh, and hung up the phone.

He looked at Neal, who was smiling as he fiddled with Peter's oversized tee-shirt that hung from his body. It said: Federal Bureau of Investigation encircled by the Bureau's insignia. Peter smiled at the irony.

"That was Diana, we caught a break on the case, one of Atlin's aliases" He mumbled, forgetting for a moment that he was no longer speaking to his 32 year old criminal constant.

Neal's eyes went cloudy with tears at that name. He buried his face into Peter's shoulder.

"Hey, hey, its okay. We are going to catch this guy okay? No need to worry." He said rubbing the kid's back reassuringly.

"Do you want to see Diana?" He asked, knowing that Neal would most likely want to.

"Di-anna?" He asked, picking his head up.

"Because I am sure she wants to see you." He said, offering a smile.

Neal dropped from Peter's grasp, and padded towards the stairs. He grabbed hold of the banister, and hoisted himself up.

"Ok-ay Pe-er. Let's go!" He said, using his hands to climb the stairs.

At that precise moment, Elle barged through the door, arms full of plastic bags. Her hair was messy, but her face was lit up with excitement.

"You have to see what I found!" She cried, dropping the sacks to the floor. She rummaged through one of them before pulling out something that forced Peter to laugh.

A tiny child sized fedora.

{}WHITE COLLAR{}

Peter and Neal came down the stairs slowly; tiny hand enclosed in a larger, more protective one. Neal had on a black suit, and his ocean blue tie. In his left arm he held a stuffed lab, which he named Satch-a-mo. On his damp brown hair sat a black fedora, which he constantly took off to admire before repositioning it on his head. Peter had on a light grey suit with a navy tie. Both men looked professional and ready to work at the FBI.

Once Peter correctly fastened Neal into his car seat after what seemed like a million tries, the pair were off to catch bad guys. Neal enjoyed trying to sing along to the various songs on the radio. He had a relatively good voice for a small child. He liked to move the stuffed dogs arms in time to the music, which made Peter laugh. As they walked into the bureau, he said hello to almost everyone he passed, squealing happily when they replied back to him.

Once they stepped passed the sliding doors, Neal had become fascinated with the "shiny lights" in the bureau elevator, and proceeded to run his hands all over them multiple times, illuminating each floor, and earning numerous groans and giggles from the passengers. After what seemed like an hour, the two finally landed on their floor, and approached and entered through the glass doors, Neal in Peter's arms.

Almost immediately he was approached by Diana, heels scuffing against the carpeted floor as she dutifully brought Peter a file. Her brown eyes widened in surprise as she took in the small child in her bosses arms.

"Boss, why do you have a kid?" She questioned, blinking a few times to ensure that she wasn't seeing things. .

Neal reached out his arms towards Diana. "Hi Di-anna! I Ne-el!" He said loudly, and with enthusiasm.

Diana's mouth dropped open, and she looked at Peter.

"Is this some kind of a joke?" She asked.

"No, it is really Neal. Somehow, I think that Atlin is connected to him being this way." He said, his face contorting into what his life liked to call, "Peter Burke's thinking face"

"How old his he?" She questioned.

Peter shrugged. "I don't know. Probably two or three."

"And you are sure this could be Atlin." She asked.

"Who else it would be?" Peter said, with a bit of edge in his tone.

"How did he find you?" She asked.

"I don't now. He was on my porch this morning. He doesn't remember how he got there." He said, running his free hand over his face.

Neal's arms were still outstretched, calmly waiting for Diana to get the message. Diana seemed confused by him, trying to comprehend what was happening.

Finally she got the message when Neal launched himself to Diana. She caught him and begin to sway awkwardly from side from side on her hip. She became more comfortable, and confident with the child with each movement, she began bouncing him up and down. Both of them were smiling.

Peter was sad to interrupt them, but felt it was necessary. "I'll grab Jones. Bring Neal and the files to the conference room in 5. I grab a couple coffees."

Neal took his hat and put it on Diana. "Now you have the hat you li-ked!" He said, happily.

Diana laughed, her face lightening up.

Neal Caffrey, kid charmer extraordinaire. He laughed, shaking his head as he walked away.

{}WHITE COLLAR{}

*If you can guess what this is... well I am not sure what I can get you. So you will get the feeling of doing something fun.

Reviews are love.


	5. Chapter Four: Imgainitave Little One

Details: I LOVE YOU GUYS SO FREAKING MUCH

Summary: Summary: While working on a case involving a child trafficker, Peter gets an unexpected surprise on his doorstep. The adventures of our favourite little con as a child! :)

Disclaimer: Like a diamond necklace, I do not own White Collar.

{}WHITE COLLAR{}

"I can't believe it." Jones said. Watching while Neal giggled as he bounced up and down on Diana's knee. The little boy was extremely happy with all the attention he was receiving from the agents. Even the gorgeous receptionists loved the tiny fedora and stuffed lab-toting consultant.

"What, that Atlin turned into him into a kid?" Diana said, holding Neal under his armpits, and tucking him into her chest. The little guy's eyes began drooping closed and he was fighting to keep them open to avoid missing any other adoration.

"No, that he could charm people even he was little!" Jones said shaking his head as it rested on his hand. "And that hat, did Elizabeth find it?" He looked at Peter over his shoulder.

Peter laughed. "Yeah, I don't know how she did. But that's Elle!"

Diana reached for the puppy dog sitting on the table and handed it to the sleepy Neal.

His little mouth formed a yawn. "I tired, Pe-er." He whispered, stretching his arms before attaching himself to Diana's jacket lapels. The brown haired agent smiled in spite of herself. She rocked him slowly as he snuggled into his puppy.

"I know buddy. We are almost done here." Peter said, picking up the manila folder and rifling through it. His eyes raked over the file, trying in vain to find something that they missed. He slammed it onto the table, which sent papers flying. He cursed internally, and began picking up the papers.

Reese Hughes walked into the conference room, and leaned forward onto table and strared down the agents.

"We have a lead on the location of Josef Atlin. Half an hour ago, and anonymous tipster contacted the APB hotline and gave us an address to an old abandoned warehouse building. I want you, Jones and Barragin on stakeout tonight. Let's bring this bastard to justice." The older chief didn't seem to notice the con sleeping in Diana's arms.

"Sir, what about Caffrey." Peter asked, gesturing to Diana.

"Bring him along." Hughes replied in his raspy voice.

"Sir with all due respect, he is a little young to be going on stakeout. I mean, what are we going to do if we find this guy and have to take him down? We can't leave him in the truck, he could get hurt or captured!" Peter asked, rising out of his chair.

"Huh. Leave him at home with Elizabeth." Hughes said, walking out of the room, rubbing his balding head.

Peter sighed. "Diana, I don't wanna move him. Do you think that…"

"Sure boss, I can take him home. I know the way." Diana said, gathering him up from the chair. She walked slowly out the door, heels scuffing across the floor as she headed towards the door.

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Neal slept soundly as Diana drove towards the Burke household. She had removed her jacket and draped it over him to use as a blanket. She smiled as she looked in her rearview and saw the boy with his mouth semi open and hair falling over his eyes. She parked in front of the pretty cottage and got out of the car. She opened the door to the backseat stared at the boy for a moment. She proceeded to scoop him into her arms and nestle him against her peach coloured shirt. She walked up to the door and knocked on it with her free hand.

Elizabeth answered the door, her bright blue eyes shining. "Hi Agent Barrigan. Have you come to drop off Neal?" She asked, holding the door open to her home.

She gestured to the child. "Yes. Peter's setting up for the stakeout tonight. He would have brought him home but Hughes' order. He told me sorry to tell you sorry he couldn't be here." She held out Neal towards Elle.

"Do you want to come in for some coffee?" She asked, encircling her arms around Neal in a motherly fashion.

"Oh, that's alright Mrs. Burke. I have got to go and help out. Have fun with Neal." She said.

"Well thanks Diana." She said, her face a bit sad she shut the oak door as the agent turned her back and headed down the stairs.

Elle went back into her house, and walked slowly up the stairs. She smiled at the baby wrapped warmly in Diana's suit jacket. She hit the top of the staircase and padded towards the guest room. She had set up a small pack-n-play into the bed-less room. There were a few bears and such inside, as well as a blanket placed neatly inside, waiting to warm her small child. She laid the boy down carefully and tucked him into the velvety blue blanket giving him Satchmo to hug on.

"Ell-e?" A weary voice called.

She turned to see Neal sitting up in his bed, leaning on his elbows.

"Hey, honey. Go back to sleep, I sit with you until you do." She said, whispering softly.

"Will you tell me a sto-ry?" He asked, settling himself back down.

She smiled again. "Sure." She sat down, looking at him through the mesh fabric of the cradle.

She sighed, pondering possibilities. "Alright. Here we was once a smart, powerful knight named Sir Peter Burkes-alot. He lived in a tiny kingdom on a tiny island known as York. He was searching, desperately trying to find his friend the jester Neal Caf-happy, who was on the run for making the princess, Lady Diana, cry. King Hughes had ordered everyone in the kingdom to find the jester and bring him to the castle where he would be banished into the dungeon. But Sir Peter wanted to find his friend, and help him. So Sir Peter went on a long and hard journey, encountering dragons and demons that threatened to stop him from continuing, but Sir Peter powered on, the will to find his friend burning deep inside him." She watched the little boy's eyes slide closed. She felt the smile return. She stood up and leaned into the crib, stroking the boy's hair lovingly as she pulled the blanket around him.

"Elle, will you fin-ish? I wanna know what happens to Sir Peter!" He mumbled, blinking his blue eyes.

"Okay. I finish the story, and then you go sleep. Promise?" She said sitting back down.

He nodded, and turned onto his side.

"Where were we?" Ok, Sir Peter came across a cave dimly lit by a candle light. He entered, and drew his sword, using it as a guide, by bouncing the light off the silvery metal. He walked slowly, holding onto the stones so he wouldn't trip and hurt himself. He came across his friend, the jester Neal." Neal giggled when he heard his name again. Elle laughed with him. "He was grungy, his clothes tattered, and he had a cut on his forehead, but he was extremely happy to see his friend. They hugged, and devised a plan to convince King Hughes that it wasn't jester Neal that caused Lady Diana to cry, yet it was a speck of dust in her eye. The pair trekked back to the kingdom, keeping each other company with Neal's jokes and Sir Peter's laughter. When they reached their destination, jester Neal was thrown into the dark dungeon for three long days and nights. During this time, Sir Peter fought hard for the release of his good friend, explaining his theory day after day. He rose early to meet the king bright and early and stayed into the final hours of the night. He displayed genuine love and devotion for his friend. Finally, Lady Diana admitted it was dust, and jester Neal was released. Sir Peter and jester Neal lived happily ever after in their kingdom, full of laughter and happiness and chocolate chip pancakes. The end."

By that time Neal had fallen asleep, his fist curled against the blue blanket, and stuffed dog. She kissed him on his forehead, and slipped out quietly.

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Who is sad about the In Plain Sight fifth and final season? I AM! I AM GOING TO SUFFER IPS WITHDRAWL!

By the way, REVIEW :)


	6. Chapter Five: Ill Little One

Details: You guys are awesome, I love you all so much! I am really sorry to report that I might not be updating as fast because I start sports tryouts/practice next week, and that will take up a great chunk of time. So sorry to all! But I promise not to leave you hanging for more than three days.

Summary: While working on a case involving a child trafficker, Peter gets an unexpected surprise on his doorstep. The adventures of our favourite little con as a child! :)

Disclaimer: If I owned White Collar, I would own Matt Bomer. If I owned Matt Bomer, well, you'd hear about it…. ;)

{}WHITE COLLAR{}

Elle peeked into the yellow walled guest bedroom, peering into the tiny blue crib. She saw Neal's sleeping from shifting from side to side rapidly. The child moaned, thrashing about. She hurried over quickly in alarm.

"Neal, baby what's wrong?" She whispered in case he was still sleeping. She grasped his tiny fist, as she leaned over the pack-n-play

His blue eyes popped open. They were wildly searching the room, tears filling them. The little boy was shaking, trying to shrug off his blanket. His curls were matted to his forehead with glistening sweat.

"I had a bad dre-am!" He shouted, reaching upwards towards the comfort of Elle's embrace. She picked him up almost immediately.

"What was it about?" She asked, settling his head against her shoulder. He felt strangely warm.

He picked his head up, and looked into her eyes, tears flowing freely down his little cheeks. "A man, he came in through that windy-ow. He stuck a pricking thing in my arm. It hurt Ell-ee." He buried himself back into her hair, sobbing uncontrollably. She whispered comforts to him, and stroked his back, his face felt hot against the skin of her shoulder.

She brought him out, and sat him onto her lap, placing her hand gently against his forehead. It was scorching to the touch. "Neal honey, do you feel bad?" She asked in a gentle tone.

His face suddenly paled to the shade of the white curtains. "Ell-ee. I no feel so good. I think I gonna be sick." He grasped his t-shirt where his stomach was.

"Okay." Elle said, picking up the boy carefully, walking him down the hall to the small bathroom, cautious not to jostle him too much. She set him down near the toilet, and opened the porcelain seat. The poor baby leaned over and began vomiting violently, some of it splashing over onto the white tiles. Elle counted, and she had to flush the nearly full toilet twice before he was finished. When he was, he collapsed against her in a feverish heap. He groaned, grabbing his t-shirt again, fist twisting the fabric.

"Oh, you poor thing." She said, dabbing his sweating face with a towel before fashioning it into a pillow, which she slipped beneath his head.

"When I was little, when I was sick, my mommy used to give me a cool bath to bring down my fever. Do you want one?" She asked, kissing his messy hair.

His eyes were weary, and his breathing was labored. "I sorry for making a mess." He whispered, the tears returning.

"Honey, it's alright. Your tummy wasn't feeling good. It is a mess I can clean up." She said.

"I like baths." He whispered hoarsely.

"Alright then! It's a go. I am going to lay you down on this very fluffy bath mat, and get it started." She placed his tiny body down on top of the towel and blue mat. He shuddered, a violent shake arched his child sized frame.

Elizabeth quickly turned on the silver knob and watched as the water gushed from the pipes. She made it extra cool, before scooping the baby into her arms. She slipped off the t-shirt and his underwear, and deposited him into the stilled water. He shivered at first, but she watched as he relaxed against the cool porcelain and his eyes slid closed.

He stayed that way for a while, but he had to rise twice to puke again into the toilet. The second time, Elle barely had time to wrap a towel around his naked torso before he retched the rest of the contents of his stomach into the bowl. He started dry heaving, his hands clutching the sides of the toilet. Then he fell backwards into Elle's waiting arms. He fell asleep against her, his body still dripping from his final encounter with the bath. She quickly re-adjusted his towel, and carried him into her bedroom, settling him carefully against the king sized pillows. After she grabbed one of Peter's undershirts and put it over his head gently, she noticed something peculiar on his fore arm. She touched it carefully, and leaned forward to get a closer look.

She wanted to ask Neal what it was, but the little guy had just fallen into a deep peaceful sleep. She slapped a hand over he mouth to contain the gasp that threatened to disturb the child. She knew what the mark was. It was circular, and located close to one of Neal's blue veins.

Elle walked over to the telephone, fingers flying over the keypad as she dialed her husband's number.

"Honey! Something's wrong with Neal. He told me he had a nightmare that involved a man coming in through the window, and injected some substance into him with a needle. I thought that he was just dreaming, but he has a puncture mark on him, and he has been throwing up for the past hour. I think someone poisoned him." She said breathlessly, running a hand through her hair.

{}WHITE COLLAR{}

UH OH! SOMEONE POISONED NEAL! Please Read and Review, they are greatly appreciated! :)))


	7. Chapter Six: Sleepy Little One

Details: So sorry that this took longer than expected to update. But thank you so much for your support! I love you guys :)))))

Summary for the Chapter: Neal and Co. take a little trip to the doctor while Peter tracks down a very bad man.

Disclaimer: No, not mine.

{}WHITE COLLAR{}

Elizabeth reached over to pull the blue comforter around the sleeping boy. She stroked his hair and kissed his burning forehead lovingly. She stared as his small and bony chest as it rose and fell underneath the white shirt. The poor boy's stomach was empty of all food and liquids, and she regretted her choice to not provide him with any nutrients, but was almost certain that it would come back up anyways.

She had placed an old beat up bucket next to the bed, in place of hauling him to the bathroom every ten minutes. He was scared to use it, however, for he believed that he would end up making a mess. Elle couldn't explain it to him properly that she didn't care, as long as it made his tummy feel better.

The young con had sweated through three of Peter' tees in the last hour, and Elle feared that she would have to take him to the hospital at this rate; his temperature hovered just under 103 degrees. She felt her breath release as she heard the slamming of the front door downstairs. She quietly slipped off the bed, careful not to disturb the tiny sleeper, and headed for the stairs, prepared to greet her worried husband.

"Hey hon." Peter said quietly. He made his way over to the coffee maker to refill his glass. "Aw, hon you look like you've been through hell." He said, as he turned to look at her. Elle was sure she did with her wrinkly stained shirt and moussed hair.

"Well that poor kid certainly has, he hasn't stopped vomiting for more than five minutes." As if on cue, sounds of retching appeared from the floor above. Both Burkes headed for the stairs, sprinting up them to get to their child.

Peter knelt next to the kid, and rubbed his back in soothing circles. "Get it all out bud. I know it's awful." Neal had nothing coming up except for dry heaves; it wasn't a reassuring sign.

Once he had finished, he climbed weakly into Peter's open arms. "I no feel so good Pe-er." He mumbled, shuddering.

"I know, we are going to fix that right now." From his pocket appeared a small bear, which he handed to Neal. "Jones sent that for you."

"Tank you, Jo-nes." He mumbled, encircling the tiny stuffed animal with his arms.

He looked at Elle, and a silent agreement passed through them. Peter carefully took Neal's arm, eyes immediately finding the site of the needle. "Hey buddy, we are going on a special trip. How does that sound?" He whispered into the child' s ear.

Neal's eyes had almost shut. He managed a little nod. "Are we goin to meet people on tis spe-shal trip?" He asked.

"Yes." He kissed his head. "We are going to meet people who can make you feel better. Does that sound good?"

Neal wrapped his arms around Peter's neck. "Make my tummy feel bet-ter please." He said, weakly.

{}WHITE COLLAR{}

With the bucket secured to the floor, and Neal wrapped in Peter's FBI issued sweatshirt, the Burkes headed for the closest peditrician. Older Neal hated doctors, but hopefully younger Neal would be able to deal with them, as long as they made he stomach feel better.

Once they arrived at the brilliantly coloured building, Peter carefully brought Neal into his arms, followed by Elizabeth, carrying the empty green bucket. The ''family'' headed into the rainbow coloured doors.

"Neal Caffrey to see Doctor DiLuca?" Peter asked, pulling out his badge for identification. The woman looked at him, and took a look at his ID.

"Welcome agent Burke. What an adorable little boy you have!" the red-haired receptionist said as she reached out and touched the little con's knee. Neal offered her a tiny smile before settling himself on Peter's shoulder. Elizabeth signed the forms with a flourish, and the threesome sat in a nearby waiting room, filled with other families with sick children.

An hour passed before a man emerged from the long hallway.

"Neal Patrick Caffrey?" A deep tanned, dark salt and peppered haired foreign man walked past other people dressed in a light blue scrub suit. His eyes scanned the nearby persons. Elizabeth waved her hand and stood.

"This is Neal." She pointed patting the sleepy baby's back gently.

The man smiled revealing kind dimples. "Well why don't you come on back Mr. and Mrs. Caffrey and we will get…"

"Oh this is not my son, sir. He is just a friend." Peter corrected, instantly regretting it. He pulled the badge again from his slacks pocket with his free hand. "Special Agent Peter Burke."

The doctor smiled again, this time with a hint of curiosity in it. "Alright then, come on back to exam room 9 and we will get started." The doctor led them down a stark white corridor to a green painted door. They stepped into the sterile smelling room and placed Neal atop the sheet covered table. Peter watched as the doctor carefully washed and dried his hands, slipping on a pair of latex gloves and a mask before re-entering the room.

"Okay, Mr. Caffrey. What brings you in here today?" He asked, taking a seat in the rolling chair, sliding towards the boy.

Neal's eyes rolled open. "Tummy hurts. Head hurts." He murmured.

Dr. DiLuca pulled a thermometer from the door, and unfastened the stethoscope from around his neck. He gently reached inside Neal's t-shirt, and said, "Deep breath for me buddy."

Neal did as he was told, shivering under the touch of the ice cold medical instrument.

"And again." He said, repositioning the device. Neal repeated the procedure.

Next the doctor placed a cover over a thermometer, and slipped under Neal's tongue. It beeped once. A moment passed before it beeped again.

"103.4. That is enough to transfer him to the E.R. for the night." He said, looking at the sleeping form of Neal. Elle gasped, hands flying to her mouth in shock. Peter simply stared at the doctor with a squared jaw eager to return into the field to nab the idiot that caused this entire incident.

"Because of his young age I am going to prescribe a light IV to regain some of the fluids his body lost. I see this odd injection site, was he given something?" The doctor turned and addressed the waiting Burkes.

They looked at one another. "We believe that he was poisoned, sir." Elle said, softly.

"May I ask how?" The doctor asked, positioning the stethoscope around his neck once more.

"It is in regards to an ongoing FBI investigation, we believe that the suspect came into the house and injected Neal with some sort of substance. I am sorry, I can't say more." Peter explained.

"Ah, I see. Well, we can pump his stomach but I can't see what good it will do. He will have most likely already expelled the poison already. I think that fluids is the best thing right now. I can show you to a room, Mr. and Mrs. Burke, if you would please follow me." The doctor scrawled something onto a white pad of paper and rose. He held out the paper with one hand.

"Shall we?" He said, raising an eyebrow.

{}WHITE COLLAR{}  
>Alright, sorry again for the late update :(((( But reviews would be nice :))))<p> 


	8. Chapter 7: Scared Little One

Details: Thank you so much for sticking with me despite it taking extremely long! I am so sorry again! I love you all :)

Summary: While working on a case involving a child trafficker, Peter gets an unexpected surprise on his door step. The adventures of our favourite little con as a child! :)

Disclaimer: It is not mine! And if it was, we wouldn't have to wait till the damn WINTER for it!

{}WHITE COLLAR{}

"Pe-er." Neal moaned, squeezing Peter's hand as hard as he possibly could as a needle was inserted into his forearm. His face was contorted in pain, and Peter was forced to hold down his little balled fists to prevent a nurse getting punched. He muttered words of comfort to the tiny squirming boy. Tears fell from his tightly shut stormy blue eyes, wetting his thick black eyelashes. He bit his wobbly lip, trying to contain a scream.

Peter could understand his fear of needles, for only a few hours before an unidentified man snuck into his bedroom and poisoned his little con. Peter so desperately wanted to rip the man apart, piece by piece, seeking revenge on the man who harmed the child. It was a paternal reflex that Peter wasn't sure he had ever had before.

He watched in agony as a the little boy cried out in fear, when another needle ejected a vial of blood from a vein. A nurse patted his shoulder, and handed him a tissue, as if it would do any good; the poor boy had been traumatized.

"Pe-er!" He said again, releasing the grip on Peter's hand. His tiny fingers encircled his index finger in a loose hold. He giggled through his tears as the nurse gently put a Spongebob bandaid over the injection sight. The nurse offered the baby a smile, and a lollipop.

Peter leaned over the metal railing and kissed his hair. "You're going to be okay, buddy." He ruffled it a bit, and the young boy laughed, wiping the tears that stained his youthful cheeks with a pale hand. Peter handed him another tissue, before he realized there was another presence in the room.

Diana appeared in the doorway, with a sky blue folder tucked under her arm. Her expression was grim, but once she saw the boy, her face softened and she gave a small wave. The little boy waved back as he could, despite the restricting IV pole. He seemed agitated by his lack of motion, yet was never the less happy to see his friend.

"Hey, Neal. How are you?" She whispered, walking over and lightly squeezing his hand.

"I okay, Di-anna." He said, nodding solemly. He held out his arm. "Look at my bandaid!" He said, his smile returning.

"Good." She patted his hair. Her eyes lit up. "Oh, I see!" She said, energetically, as she took his arm lightly in her hands and inspected it. "Very nice." She said, giving a small quiet laugh.

She stopped laughing for a moment, and looked at Peter. Her eyes flat and bare of emotion as she held up the folder. She motioned for him to return to the hallway.

Peter nodded grimly, and rose from the chair, his bottom sore from it's flimsy plastic. He grunted, stretching his aching back, and walked slowly towards the doorway, loafers squeaking against the freshly polished tiles.

Neal reached out towards Peter. "No go, Pe-er." He said, his eyes re-filling with tears. His hand and voice shook.

Peter went to the bed and picked up his little hand. "I am only going for a minute buddy. I promise. Diana wants to tell me something." He whispered softly, careful not to speak about the case for fear that he might scare the child.

"Is she telling you a se-cret." He asked, his eyes widening and voice rising. His face cracked into a smile.

Peter chuckled. "Yes, but you can't tell." He laid a finger to his lips.

Neal nodded, his eyes growing bid. He zipped his lips shut, and threw away the key.

Peter laughed again, and spun on his heel.

{}WHITE COLLAR{}

"Alright, Whatdya got Diana?" He asked, assuming his usual position with his hands on his hips. He sighed, preparing for the worst.

She opened the folder with two fingers, eyes scanning the documents it contained. "We got a hit on the name, Fray La Fence. It's an anagram for.."

"Neal Caffrey." He said, running a hand through his hair irritatedly. He shifted his weight from foot to foot in impatience. "Damn-it. Why didn't I think about this sooner?"

"You had a lot on your mind boss, you wouldn't have thought about it. " She replied, reassuring her boss. Her eyes drifted towards the folder again.

"Yeah, but that's my job. Keeping him safe." He said, turning around and pacing. His eyes searched the walls and floors, as if they held all the answers. He twisted back, refocusing on his agent. "What else?"

"its some sort of message, because get this; the large purchases he made were baby equipment."

"Baby stuff?" Peter asked, face a mask of confusion. He pondered this for a moment. "Why baby stuff?"

"I don't know. But I'll find out for you." She said, abruptly shutting the folder.

"Have Jones run any other possible aliases, and other locations. Something may pop up that we've missed. I want you to take this lead and run with it, see where it leads you. Find out if he had any wives or girlfriends that had kids. I want to know this guy's past. I want him." He said in the most calm fashion he could manage.

"On it." She replied, dutifully. The pair headed back down the hallway towards Neal.

A startling crash startled both the FBI agents. They looked at one another, before going for their weapons, sprinting down the corridor towards Neal's room. Finding the door locked, Peter's adrenaline rushed through his veins, causing him to kick down the door in fury. He was desperate to reach his boy.

"FBI!" He shouted, searching the room for intruders. The tiny bathroom held no one. "Clear." He called, before his eyes fell upon the bed.

Blood dotted the sheets next to a disengaged IV needle, which was tilted sideways over the metal pole, hence the crash. The bedspread had been rumpled, and the window was open, exposing the cool night air. The glass was cracked slightly around window pane. Peter ran a hand over his haggard face, holstering his weapon.

"Diana get Hughes on the phone. This just became a man hunt for a child abductor." He said briskly.

{}WHITE COLLAR{}

REVIEW!


	9. Chapter Eight: Captured Little One

Details: I am so sorry that it took so long to update! But tryouts are going great, and today my Marine brothers and I did a 10K, and it was fun! :)

Summary: While working on a case involving a human trafficker, Peter gets and unexpected surprise on his door step. The adventures of everyone's favorite con, fun sized.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

PLEASE: R&R :)))))

{}WHITE COLLAR{}

As soon as Diana had pulled her cell phone from her pocket, Peter burst through the already cracked window, adrenaline and fear pulsing through his veins, waking him up like a double shot of expresso and a red-bull. He landed on the neatly trimmed green grass one story below with surprising grace, and streaked across the street lamp illuminated courtyard, peering behind bushes, and into draining systems. A blood dribbled down the side of his face from his stinging forehead, slightly obscuring his vision from the street. Peter blinked six times, his sight reappearing as he scanned the dimly lit area.

Broken bits of window pane spattered haphazardly across his grey jacket sleeve. They were quickly brushed aside as he reached in the holster for his Glock. He pulled it out and cocked it, preparing for invisible enemies. He sprinted, breath coming out in short puffs, towards the darkened parking lot partially filled with automobiles. His eyes scanned the parking lot, looking for the tell-tale signs of abduction. He found the area emptied of people, except for a few nurses on smoke-break.

He pulled his badge from his pocket and put his weapon away. "Have you seen a little boy, curly brown hair, deep blue eyes, around two years old?" He asked the orderlies.

One of them tossed their smoking cigarette to the pavement, and squashed it with her black orthopedic shoe. She crossed her arms over her rumpled blue scrubs. She looked Peter square in the eye with electrifyingly green irises."No sir I have not." She said, pulling her green shrug around her shoulders tighter, shivering against the chilly night air.

He turned to the other one, hopeful for an answer, but she simply shook her mess of black curls. "I'm sorry, Agent." She said, her voice low and raspy from years of smoke induced lung damage. She coughed, a painful rattle that emerged from behind blackened teeth. The women watched Agent Burke curiously.

He breathed in and out through his nose a few times, chest feeling as though it had been filled lead. He nodded quickly, and thanked the women.

He walked away from the group and towards a thick, black lamppost. Bathed in it's yellowed glow, Peter sighed, shutting his eyes and exhaling slowly, body sagging in exhaustion against it's durable support.. He rubbed his brow in resignation, mopping the sweat from his warm forehead with the cuff of his shirt..He took out his cell phone, squinting to make out the faintly glowing numbers. He punched in the correct digits, and dialed Diana.

"No sight of our kidnapper, but I am going to canvas the parking lot and the garage, and check for skid marks and prints." He spoke gruffly. He leaned heavily on the pole, fatigue and grief overtaking him. "Our main goal is to find and locate this bastard, and more importantly Neal. We need him home, safe and sound." He said, his voice soft with emotion. "Get Jones and the team over here as soon as possible. This guy might still be on the premises. Shut it down. No one gets in or out." He said, his tone oozing with authority.

"You got it boss. He will be home in not time." She responded, her phone shutting with a click.

Peter pocket his phone once again, and began swiftly walking towards the concrete building. He nearly tripped on an unknown object in the darkness. He cursed bitterly, and bent down to inspect the object. Taking a tissue from his coat pocket, he picked it up gingerly with two fingers, bringing it in for closer view.

It was a yellow stuffed lab puppy, its coat stained with blood.

{}WHITE COLLAR{}

Neal's head felt funny.

He had woken up an hour ago to find himself sitting on a ratty blue quilt, jolted from his sleep due to his back aching from lying on the uncomfortable concrete beneath the blanket, and surrounded by dirtied and somewhat white pillows. He patted his head to make sure nothing was missing. He was thankful that his head was still there, yet wasn't fond of it's pain. He had quickly patted down the other parts of his body, finding only a cut marring his knee cap, from where he fell when the mean man dragged him away. A shiver went down his spine at the memory.

He sat up, and looked around, tiny blue orbs inspecting his room. It's walls were a grey colour, not a pretty shade like the one Peter had been wearing this morning, he noted. It had been sloppily painted, and was cracked in some places. It reeked of cigar smoke and another unidentifiable musty odor. He wrinkled his tiny nose, taken aback by the dreadful smells of the air.

There were no windows, which Neal didn't like, for he liked his sunshine and watching the birds fly in different patterns. He smiled to himself, remembering how Peter had promised that the two of them would go to the park that evening. He was saddened by the fact that they might not be able to accomplish this fun activity. He sighed, and flopped back down onto his pillows, entertaining himself with the draw sting on his hospital issued pants.

He missed his Satch-a-mo, and wished he could be sitting faithfully beside him to keep him company. At least then Neal would have someone to speak to and to keep him safe from the creepy men. He decided that he would talk aloud, about whatever he wanted. Eventually he came to reciting Elizabeth's story from when he was ill. He remembered the knight Peter Burks-a-lot and jester Neal. He like the story very much, and told it three times.

There were strange noises escalating from beyond the black door. Neal quickly grabbed a pillow and his buried face beneath it, suddenly afraid of unspeakable dangers. He heard footsteps pounding towards him, and shuddered in fear. The pillow was abruptly yanked away from him, and Neal was faced with a man dressed casually in jeans and a black t-shirt. His face seemed partially angry and annoyed.

"Where Pe-er?" Neal squeaked, fist closing around another pillow, drawing it to his small frame.

The man smile cruelly. "He is not here right now, Neal." His voice whispered, eeirly. From behind his back he pulled a plush elephant and showed it to Neal.

Neal took it with caution, afraid that it would hurt him in some way. "Tank you." He mumbled, eyeing the toy sitting in front of him. Silence passed between them.

"I wan Pe-er." He said, firmly, tears filling his blue eyes. "Where is him?"

{}WHITE COLLAR{}

REVIEWS ARE LOVE :))))


	10. Chapter Nine: Discovered Little One

Details: Hello Faithful readers! I love you all so very much, it is insane! :) BIG thanks to all you reviewers! Keep it up! Please I am begging you! :))))))

Summary: While working on a case involving a human trafficker, Peter gets and unexpected surprise on his door step. The adventures of everyone's favorite con, fun sized.

Disclaimer: Sadly I do not own White Collar, I just enjoy playing with their characters.'

{}WHITE COLLAR{}

Peter leaned over the file for what seemed like the millionth time that morning. With his jacked removed and sleeves rolled up, Peter tackled the utterly important task of bringing his child home safely. Dark brown eyes poured over the disassembled manila folder looking for some clue, any tiny indication as to where his boy could be hiding. He shut his eyes, and allow his mind to be taken over with possibilities.

_Come on Neal. Show me the way._ He thought, putting his hands onto his hips, looking skywards towards the concrete ceiling overhead.

His team had created a white-board official list in green marker, yet none of the places seemed plausible for a kidnapper's lair. He slammed a fist against a nearby pole in frustration, welcoming the pain of the hit as a reminder of his idiocy. He unfurled his fingers.

His eyes returned to the table and the neatly typed, black lettered documents in front of him.

He sighed, mentally kicking himself again for leaving the little boy unattended for even a moment. _I'm so sorry buddy, I let you down._ He rubbed his weary eyes, and cleared his throat. _No time to dwell on past mistakes, I need to focus on finding you. _He blinked the bleariness away.

He had barely been able to keep his constantly drooping eyelids open as dawn pounded it's shiny fist through the parking lot slats, despite the constant companionship of his trusty sidekick, coffee. Empty Starbucks cups littered the white hardtop tables as everyone from the office seemed to be feeling the fog of early morning tiredness. Even Diana had fallen asleep leaning against Jones' shoulder, whom had a droplet of drool slipping down his chin. The agents seemed surprisingly at peace, and Peter wanted to give them a moment to rest up. He would certainly need them later.

Other members of his team had set up lawn chairs, murmuring incoherently as they discussed possible take down tactics amongst themselves. Hand motions and low, monotone voices captured Peter's attention. His eyes wandered from the papers, and towards the seated agents.

Peter was so overcome by the numerous distractions that he barely registered the fact that his cellphone was demanding his attention, irritatingly. He flicked it open with out looking at it, and pressed send.

"Agent Burke." He said, his voice hoarse. He cleared his throat quickly, and rubbed his nose.

There seemed to be no one at the end of the line, so he pulled back his phone, and stared at the tiny illuminated screen.

The words, "Unknown Caller" flashed across it's display. He quickly put it back to his ear, and snapped in front of his agent's sleeping faces, acquiring their attention. Diana's head immediately snapped up, eyes opened and alert. Peter made a motion with his fingers to indicate to her that she needed to trace the call. She nodded in recognition, and took out a laptop from a nearby brief case. She powered it up, swiped her fingers deftly across the key board a few times, and nodded to Peter again; she was ready.

"Hello Agent Burke. I assume you already know my name." The man, in his cocky arrogance, hadn't even bothered to disguise his voice.

"Josef Atlin, just the man I wanted to speak with." He said, putting the phone down onto a piece of paper and pressed speaker. He laid a finger to his lips as other agents gathered round in curiosity.

"You are already have agents tracing this call, do you not?" He asked. Though his name seemed outrightly Russian, he spoke with no accent.

He froze. "Every precaution is necessary." He spoke carefully.

"No need to. I will just give you my address." He stated. "I am at an abandoned warehouse, just outside of the city. It is located 5 miles behind a gas station named Watson's. Ask for Steve and he will lead you right to me. Come alone, unarmed with not so much as a buck knife on you. Follow these orders to a T or the boy dies." He said, disconnecting the call.

Peter's phone remained opened as Diana's computer dinged. She nodded for the third time. "He wasn't lying boss. It is a warehouse out in the middle of nowhere."

Peter run a hand over his face. He hopped up onto the chair. "Everyone suit up. I will be going alone on this one, but I want a team just outside the gas station. I want EMTS on hand, and listening devices undetectable by even Neal. Let's go."

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Peter took a deep breath before approaching the eerily lit door to the gas station. The air smelt faintly of gasoline and firewood, as night fell into the New York sky. Cigarette butts were crushed under foot as he made his way quietly towards the beat up metal door handle. He paused before reaching for it.

He coughed, covering his mouth before saying, "Everyone ready?"

Agents mumbled various acknowledgments into their mics, signaling Peter that all was a go.

He pulled the door towards him, and stepped inside.

He paced the aisles and scanned the shelves as if he was looking for something, but his eyes locked with his target behind the counter.

He walked forward, and rested his hands onto the counter. "Nice night isn't it?" He asked, making small talk before reaching the point of his visit.

The man snorted, not even bothering to look up.

"Is Steve on duty this evening?" He asked somewhat casually, adjusting the sleeves on his red sweater before shoving his hands into his jean's pocket.

The man stared back at him. "Depends on whose askin." The man grunted in reply, eyes dropping to the dirty rag that cleaned the counter.

"A friend of mine asked me to stop by. A man by the name of Atlin." Peter said, eyes narrowing.

The man's gaze met Peter's in scrutiny. "We was wonderin when you would stop by Mister Burke." He said, stepping out and taking Peter's arm. "Follow me."

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Peter trudged through what seemed like miles of endless forest as he attempted to keep up with the odd looking man. With an untrimmed beard, and wild green eyes, the man looked as though he had just escaped from prison. But Peter asked no questions as he trekked behind him. Twigs snapped and owls hooted in the creepy canopies above. Every small noise sent Peter on edge.

"So where are we headed?" Peter asked, watching his feet to ensure that he wouldn't trip.

"I well tell you, once we get there." The guy replied in a deep southern accent mixed with poor grammar, as he adjusted his Red Sox ball cap. He pulled a weed from the earth, and stuck it into his mouth, chewing on it noisily.

Peter muttered something under his breath about the man being a whackjob. His back ached, and his feet hurt. He just so desperately wanted Neal home again, safe.

He nearly crashed into the man's flannel clad back, not knowing that he had stopped. He caught himself just in time. He stepped next to the man, and looked straight ahead.

A darkened outline of a large, rickety building loomed just a mere three yards in front of the man. The door opened suddenly and out came a figure, blurred by the nighttime. Peter tensed, and waited for the other person to make his approach.

"Agent Burke, I take it?" He called out, boots stomping on the dirt. As he neared Peter and the cowboy, Peter took notice of the weapon and silencer he had neatly clipped to his belt, concealed by his black leather jacket.

"Yes." Peter replied shortly. "I did everything that you asked." He held out his arms and legs for inspection. "I'm alone."

Atlin patted Peter down quickly, missing the speaking device planted neatly in his collar button. "Yes, you're clean. Surprising for a man as yourself."

Peter shrugged. "Hostage is a co-worker. We'd like him back in one piece."

Atlin nodded slowly. "Well you will be happy to know that Neal is in fact still alive." He gestured towards the warehouse.

"Can I see him?" Peter asked.

"In due time, Agent Burke. We have to make a deal first." He said, eyes searching Peter's.

"Well, let's have it." Peter said, crossing his arms.

The man took a breath. "I want a lighter sentence, in exchange for your little friend. I want the death penalty taken off the table, and also charges for trafficking gone. I will take a four year sentence for forgery, yet nothing more."

"Mr. Atlin, I have no control over that. Perhaps you should've asked the DA's office to come down here." Peter said.

"No Agent Burke." He removed his weapon from it's holster and aimed it at Peter, voice rising in frustration. "I asked for you, Burke. I know you can make that happen, if you want your little friend to live." His tone became quieter, voice softer.

From his pocket he pulled a small box, with a tiny antenna attached to the top. A green light blinked through the darkness. "You see, I arranged for a sort of "insurance policy". If you do not get me a lighter sentence, I will make sure your kid's blown to pieces." He shook the box.

Peter felt as though he had been stabbed in the stomach. Air could not find it's way into his lungs. Anger boiled in his stomach making him quiver with nausea. He was outright furious.

In the corner of his eye, he saw a tiny shadow slip out from the barn door and inch towards the three men slowly. Peter focused on the other two men to ensure that they hadn't seen it. None of them seemed fazed by the silent escapee.

Peter stared at Atlin. The being in the darkness forced an alliance between the men. He needed Atlin to like Peter. "I can get you less time. Alright? All I need is a cellphone. Do you have one?" Peter held out his hand.

Josef tossed the gun to the cowboy, who caught it awkwardly. From his left jacket pocket, Atlin pulled a small Razor phone, and tossed it to Peter.

"No funny business. You try to signal him and I press the button. Got it?" Atlin said, his voice beginning to get nervous.

"Cross my heart and hope to die." Peter said, flicking it open. He quickly dialed Diana's number, praying that she would play along.

"Miss Septem? Agent Burke. I've got a new word on Atlin. Well, I need your help." He said, keeping his voice steady. He hoped she would understand his code.

Diana seemed a bit flustered, but said nothing in return. He could hear them working furtively in the background to analyze his sentencing.

"Sorry to catch you so late, Neal and I have uncovered something that has detrimental affects on your case. A bomb-shell of sorts!" Peter laughed. "Anyways, I was wrong on the conviction of trafficking, isn't him as it turns out." Atlin seemed agitated with his bomb comment, but Peter put his hand over the device and said, "Figure of speech. Your device made me think of it."

Peter put the phone back up to his ear and listened. "Got it boss. We are sending a team to your location now."

"Alright, that's great." He said, smiling.

"She says that she can get you a lighter sentence, with the charges dropped, as long as you agree you won't sue for false conviction." He said.

"Accept it, damn it!" He nearly shouted.

"Atlin will accept your deal. Thank you, Ms. Septem. You have a great night." He said, shutting the phone, he tossed it back to Atlin.

Josef opened the phone. "Just to be sure you aren't lying." He pressed the redial button on the telephone, and put it on speaker phone.

"Stacey Septem, District Attorney's office, How can I help you today?" Diana asked, in a sickly sweet voice.

Josef shut the phone before responding. "Thanks for doing your part Burke. Too bad you won't live long enough to see it through." He said, taking the gun back and putting it back on Peter's forehead.

"Oh I think I will." He said, quietly.

"Really?" He cocked the gun, pressing it to Peter's temple.

"Oh yeah. NOW!" He shouted, slapping the gun from Atlin's hands. He delivered an outrageous blow to his groin, which sent him reeling. Atlin tried to reach out for something, but Peter picked up the gun, and blew his knee cap to hell. Atlin cried out in pain withering into the ground. Peter silenced him with a single blow to the head with the butt of the gun. Peter turned to Steve the Cowboy, and socked him in the nose. The man dashed off with a scared look before Peter could take him down. He fired a bullet anyways. Once both men were no longer in action, Peter took off sprinting towards the gloomy building. He had to find Neal in time.

"Neal buddy? Where are you?"He shouted, eyes furtively searching the darkness, while his feet raced forwards.

A tiny body crashed itself onto Peter's leg and held on for dear life. "I here, I here!" He stated, voice cracking with tears.

Peter crouched down, and looked for the bomb. It didn't seem to be attached to his body in any place.

"Where is it? Where is the blinking thing?" He asked, taking the boy by the shoulders. He stared into watery ocean blue eyes.

He held out the stuffed elephant. "Is here!" He said. "Pwease, Pe-er. Help me." He said, shuddering, sobs overtaking his small frame.

Not knowing what else to do, Peter took the elephant and threw it as far as he could. It landed with a thump on top of the body of the cowboy. He picked up Neal, and ran deeper into the woods. He set him down.

"Get DOWN!" He shouted, before tackling Neal, and forcing him behind a rock. He put his arms around the child, and covered him with his body, just before the device exploded in a hail of fire behind him.

{}WHITE COLLAR{}

So I made it extra long! I hope that makes up for the longer time it took! Please R&R! :)))


	11. Chapter Ten: Safe Little One

Details: Hello! I would like to take this time to apologize profusely for not getting you this sooner. Due to Hurricane Irene, my power at my house has been knocked out and the lines severely damaged. I feel horrible, so I am writing this on my brother's phone and posting it! Again, I am extremely sorry!

Summary: While working on a case involving a human trafficker, Peter gets and interesting surprise on his doorstep. The adventures of everyone's favorite con ~ child sized.

Disclaimer: White Collar and all of it's rights belong to the USA Network. I receive no monetary contributions for this piece, as it does not belong to me. Please do not pursue me on any legal charges due to the previous stated. Thank you for your cooperation.

{}WHITE COLLAR{}

Fire torched the dusty, dead limb filled forest following the bombs eruption. A blast shook the dark earth, and blew the eardrums of the lucky two survivors spared from the inevitable. The acrid smell of scorched flesh hung over the woods tainting the usually fresh air, as the blaze claimed it's victims. A charred hand crash-landed near Peter's head, and he was careful to direct the child's attention elsewhere; the boy was scared enough.

Flames rose higher and higher, their hungry waves nipping at the treetops, igniting them in a red haze. Smoke swam throughout the night like an angry storm cloud of grey, filling their lungs and forcing them to cough. Peter had put his jacket over Neal's mouth and nose to ensure his well being. The boy already had an angry red scratch racing against his grimy forehead.

Peter kept his position crouched over Neal's small body, consoling the scared child. From his wild blue eyes came salty tears, forming tracks that criss crossed down his dirty cheeks, creating clear and pure lines of clean skin. His hair hung in matted clumps, soil and grass making guest appearances in his unkempt dark curls. His shirt was stained as well; Elle would have a field day attempting to remove all traces of the past hours with sweet smelling bleach and various cycles through the washer machine.

Neal huddled closer to Peter, his body forming a miniature ball in his lap. "I scaa-red." He whispered, voice coming out in mumbles through his wobbly swollen lip.

Peter pulled the kid closer to his chest, pressing the small head against his t-shirt in comfort. "I know, bud. Jones and Diana will be here soon. " He peeked his head over the small cliff, over which he had thrown himself to protect the vulnerable child. He could see nothing but the field ablaze. He ducked back down as the flames drew nearer. Peter hacked violently, the air made it harder to breathe.

The boy swiped away at his eyes, leaving tar stains under his eyes. He stretched his tiny arms around Peter. Peter rubbed his little back soothingly.

"Peter? Neal!" Jones shouted in the distance, his voice garbled.

"We here! We can't get through, the fire it too strong!" Peter shouted back, straightening up from behind his hiding spot.

"Fire department's on the way, can you hold on a few more minutes?" Diana called out, voice piercing through the wall of fire.

Neal picked his head up. " We Be okay Di-anna! Help soon!" He all but screamed.

Peter chucked, ruffling his messy curls. "We're going to be alright."

Neal searched Peter's brown eyes. "Do you wan I to tell you a st-ory?" He asked, eyes widening seriously.

Peter nodded. "Sure, what's it about?" He asked, settling Neal on his bent knee. He wiped his sweating brow.

"O-tay. It's about a nice k-nite named Sir Pe-er, and his friend je-ster Neal." He began, fiddling with the zipper on Peter's sweater, childishly.

"Well this sounds interesting. Why don't you tell me all about it." He said, putting his hand on Neal's shoulder.

"Once upoon a dime." He began voice strong and loud with excitement.

{}WHITE COLLAR{}

"And they lived happy ever after, lafing and playing for-everrr!" He said voice droning on as he elongated the final 'r' for dramatic effect. His hands spread wide for a comparison. Peter bobbed his head understandingly. He clapped a little to humour the boy.

A dark haired nurse came with her tools to make Neal feel better. She tickled his tummy smiling broadly, earning several giggles from the boy. He feebly child to push the latex gloved hand away, failing miserably. Soon both were laughing, and Peter couldn't resist the child's beautiful laugh; it was contagious.

Peter and Neal were sitting in the back of an ambulance, getting cleaned up from their adventure "chasing bad guys" and Neal called it. The tears had been long gone and replaced by happy smiles and laughter.

Peter had already been cleared, with a simple sprained ankle and a few cuts and bruises, he would be fine in a few short days. Neal, on the other hand, had a nasty gash running across his face, and it needed more attention.

The boy shut his eyes firmly and squeezed Peter's strong hand hard as the lady nurse rubbed antiseptic over his long wound with a Qu-tip. She then placed purple gooish substance over it to ensure that it wouldn't re-open and become infected. She wiped his face off with a sterilized antibacterial wipe, and planted a kiss on his forehead and offered him a lime green lollipop from her pocket.

"What do you say bud?" Peter said, paternally, patting his boy's arm.

"Well, I like blue better." Neal said, studying the packaged treat.

"Neal!" Peter scolded, with a look on his face. He forced himself not to smile at Neal's blunt acknowledgement.

"I no lie!" Neal said, handing the sucker back to the nurse.

She laughed, grinning widely as she produced a blue pop from the bin in the back. She bowed as she presented it to the boy. "As you wish, Mr. Caffrey."

Peter apologized, but she shook it off replying, "Your son is just fine, he has to be my favourite patient of the day. He deserves it, and I don't mind a little sass." She laughed again. "He reminds me of my own son." She hopped back into the vehicle waving at the pair. "Y'all have a good night, and take it easy. I don't want to see either of you back in my ambulance any time soon."

Both boys waved back and called out their goodbyes.

Neal unwrapped his sweet, and put it into his mouth happily. He smiled, the lollipop nearly fell from his clenched jaws.

Peter chuckled. "Let's go home, buddy. Elle's waiting." He said, scooping up the child into his arms. "You did good today bud! I am proud of you for being brave." He planted a large, sloppy kiss on his forehead.

{}WHITE COLLAR{}

Again, my apologies.

I will try to get another one in soon, but I am not sure for how much longer I will be in the dark. SO fingers crossed for light! :)

PLEASE Review! :))))


	12. Chapter Eleven: Wanted Little One

Details: I"VE GOT THE POWER! :)))))))))))))  
>Summary: During a case involving a human trafficker, Peter gets an interesting surprise on his door step. The adventures of everyone's favourite con ~ child sized.<br>Disclaimer: As stated previously, multiple times, I receive no monetary contributions from my work. Thank you.

{}WHITE COLLAR{}

Peter looked back in the rearview mirror, while stopped at a red light, at the sleeping baby in his back seat. The stoplight cast an eerie shadow over the little kid, bathing his body in a deep rouge colour. His eyes lingered on Neal's chest, rising and falling in a rhythmic manner. The baby's tiny head was pressed against the cool glass of the window, with the mouth parted slightly, forming a mini "O". With a rumpled t-shirt and matted hair, he looked like a wreck, but that was the least of Peter's worries. He was just glad that the kid had made it out alright. A man from behind blared his horn irritatingly, throwing his hands up in frustration. Peter was startled, yet was none the less polite, waving in apology as he pressed his foot to the accelerator, jolting his car to a start. He steered it towards home, eager to see his worried wife.

Peter parked the car along the concrete sidewalk, just outside the steps leading up to the Burke Cottage. He remained in his seat with hands still positioned at ten and two on the wheel. He sighed, dropping them into his lap, weakly. He ran a dirtied hand over his haggard face and through his messy hair, trying to erase the fatigue from his body. His ankle throbbed painfully, requiring ice, Advil and a bandage. Elle would have his head on a silver platter for getting himself hurt, but he could take it. After all, it was for a good cause.

He sighed a final time before pushing open his driver's door, and stepping into the brisk night air. He shut the car door, careful to emit much noise. He eased the backseat door open, and stared at a sleeping Neal. He unbuckled the child, and slipped him methodically from a little booster seat Elle had purchased for him. Once out, Neal adjusted himself in his sleep; head resting on Peter's shoulder and fragile arms tightly wound around his neck. He smiled to himself, and walked carefully towards the front door. He pushed it open quietly, and stepped inside, feet meeting the hardwood of the foyer; it felt magnificent to be home at last. Footsteps padded towards the duo, producing Elle from the dimly lit household. Tears shone in her bright blue eyes; her boys were home.

Peter put his free hand to his lips, and pointed to the stairs. Elle nodded in agreement, and followed them up the stairs, and into the guest room. Peter paused, shifting the boy to his hands, so that he could tuck him in carefully and without waking the tired Neal. Paternally, he placed the fluffy blue blankets around the boy snugly.

"Ni Pe-er." He mumbled, before turning to his side and finding his stuffed lab puppy. His fists closed around it's soft paw and Neal smiled, before bringing it to his chest.

Peter smiled, and planted a kiss on his dark curls. "Goodnight, son." He answered reflexively, without noticing his mistake.

He checked the window latch for safety purposes, before turning out the lights, the room left illuminated by a small night-light, shining comfortingly through the dark. Peter smiled, and closed the door quietly.

{}WHITE COLLAR{}

The married couple sat on their crème coloured couch, taking comfort in the each other's embrace. Peter closed his eyes, and nestled himself in his wife's brown hair, weariness setting in. Noise was not a factor at the moment, both enjoying the easy silence.

Elle however, couldn't seem to relax. She fiddled with the wedding band on her left hand, absentmindedly. Thought rolled through her head.

"Hon?" She whispered, breaking herself free from his arms to face him. Her eyes held his in an inescapable gaze. She pulled the throw around their knees.

"Hmm?" He mumbled in reply, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to stay awake.

"What are we going to do?" She asked, seriously, eyes studying Peter's for answers.

"About what?" He asked, rubbing his nose, and resting his elbows on his legs.

"Neal." She said, taking one of his hands, and redirecting his attention back on her. "The men who made him a baby again are dead, are they not?" She asked.

He nodded. "I have no idea what we are supposed to do, Elle." He said, earnestly. "I mean, Hell I didn't even know that it was possible to make him a child, and now we are supposed to change him back? Elle I didn't even know that was possible." He said, shaking his head.

"Me neither, it seemed like something out of a science fiction movie." She said.

Peter sighed, "I don't think there is a way to change him back, hon. The only one who knew how was torched."

Elle shrugged. "Then I guess there is nothing else we can do."

Peter nodded again. The pair relapsed back into silence.

"Is it bad that I don't want him to go back to being an adult?" She whispered, avoiding Peter's eyes.

Peter chuckled. "I can't say that I wouldn't miss him being a kid. Certainly makes my job easier."

Elle punched him on the shoulder. "I'm serious. I almost want him to stay little." She said, eyes widening. "I want him to be mine."

"I do too." Peter whispered, drawing his wife into his arms.

Elle looked him square in the eyes. "Well, let's make him ours. You always wanted a son right?" She asked, a smile gracing her lips at the possibility of getting a long awaited baby.

Peter laughed in reply.

{}WHITE COLLAR{}

Again, deeply sorry. I hope everyone has an amazing Labour Day. I will try to get you an update ASAP..

PLEASE R&R


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